


Wake Up and Smile

by allyarra



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I swear, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyarra/pseuds/allyarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"At least, that’s what he’d thought until he’d spent the weekend trying to distract himself from the fact that Stiles’ lack of presence was driving him crazy. It was like an itch beneath his skin that he couldn’t scratch, no matter how he tried. By Sunday he was relieved to know that Stiles would be back in just a few short hours, would probably be coming over as soon as he got home because he did things like that. Things like coming to see Derek whenever he’d been absent for longer than a day. Derek honestly can’t remember when that became something that he looked forward to, that he considered a bright spot in his day. The irritation that had plagued him for three days slowly began to soothe itself away as the day dragged on, and then spiked when Stiles never showed."</p>
<p>Stiles and his dad are in a car accident on their way home from visiting colleges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up and Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shutupbolinski (zimothy)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shutupbolinski+%28zimothy%29).



Derek isn’t good with emotions. They’re hard and they don’t come as naturally to him as they once did. Sometimes he thinks they never came naturally to him, but then he thinks about playing tea party with his little sisters and baking with his mom and doing homework with his dad and he remembers that once he understood good emotions, once they were a part of his life. But that was before the fire, before he’d lost faith in his ability to trust his instincts about people. So he gets that he’s not good with emotion, what he doesn’t get is why Stiles continues to insist that he wants to be with Derek, even if Derek is a sourwolf.

Stiles isn’t something that he’d ever expected to be in his future, and he’s not sure whether or not he actually likes it, which really just goes back to the whole Derek not getting along with emotions not directing related to anger. He tries though, he tries to see why Stiles would want something with someone as broken as Derek is. He still doesn’t understand it and he somehow doubts that he ever will. It’s not something that he contemplates very often, only after Stiles has done something to make sure that Derek knows that his interest hasn’t waned, that he still wants Derek, still wants to be with Derek. The idea of it is there though, sitting in the back of his head for times when it’s quiet enough that he can bring it out and try and see if maybe it might be a good idea for him to give in, for him to actually let Stiles in even further than he already has. Derek hasn’t given in yet.

So when Stiles leaves for the long weekend to visit some colleges downstate with his dad he doesn’t really think anything of it. In fact, he’s kind of looking forward to a couple of days without Stiles there, testing his control. Because as much as Derek thinks that anything that could happen between him and Stiles would only end badly, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want Stiles. Because Derek tries to at least always be honest with himself, he is willing to admit to himself that he’s wanted Stiles for awhile, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to do anything about it.

At least, that’s what he’d thought until he’d spent the weekend trying to distract himself from the fact that Stiles’ lack of presence was driving him crazy. It was like an itch beneath his skin that he couldn’t scratch, no matter how he tried. By Sunday he was relieved to know that Stiles would be back in just a few short hours, would probably be coming over as soon as he got home because he did things like that. Things like coming to see Derek whenever he’d been absent for longer than a day. Derek honestly can’t remember when that became something that he looked forward to, that he considered a bright spot in his day. The irritation that had plagued him for three days slowly began to soothe itself away as the day dragged on, and then spiked when Stiles never showed.

By ten o’clock Derek had finally given in and admitted that Stiles probably wasn’t going to show, but he wasn’t going to admit how disappointed he was at that fact. Of course, that’s when his stupid phone that he only carried around because Stiles had bought it for him rang. “What?” he demanded, his irritation at Stiles bleeding into his irritation at being forced to talk on the phone.

“Derek, it’s Scott. I, uh, there’s been an accident.” Scott said and for the first time in years he sounded like the scared teenager he’d been when Derek had first met him. But it was worse than that, because Derek could hear the way that Scott’s voice was clogged with tears and the way that he had swallowed to hold them back and his heart stuttered because there was only one situation in which he could imagine Scott calling him about an accident.

“Stiles and his dad, they were, uh, hit by some idiot running-” and Scott has to stop speaking to let out a sob that feels like it’s ripping through Derek. “Running a red light,” he finishes and Derek has to sit down, before his knees give out and he falls down.

“Where are you?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. There’s only one place that Scott could be calling from.

“The hospital. I’ll be in the waiting room when you get here.”

Derek wants to just hang up so that he can run to his car, can speed all the way to the hospital, but he’s learned something in the past two years, he’s learned enough to know how to be an Alpha, even when he’s never felt like less of one. “Okay, I’ll be there soon. Do the others know?” Scott lets out another sob and Derek can imagine him shaking his head in answer. “Alright, if you can call them and let them know, otherwise we’ll deal with it when I get there.”

“Yes, okay,” Scott says and hangs up. Derek’s glad that he didn’t have to do it because he’s already on his feet, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

* * *

 

The entire trip to the hospital passed in a blur and then he’s in the waiting room, standing in front of Scott McCall, who is looking at him like he can fix the entire world. Derek wishes he could, not for the first time. Scott always makes him want to be better, because Scott reminds him of his little brother, bright and shiny and always willing to see the best in people. He makes Derek want to be good enough to keep him alive, to make sure he doesn’t die because of what he was, even though Derek wasn’t good enough to keep his baby brother alive. Derek killed his brother and maybe sometimes he thinks that taking care of Scott would somehow make that better, somehow lessen his debt. He knows it’s not true, but he does his best where Scott is concerned anyway.

In this case, his best means drawing Scott into a hug, allowing the boy to bury his face in his alpha’s shoulder and cry for his best friend and the man who was practically his second father. Derek wishes he could cry, too, but he can’t. Everything in his head is white noise, he’s just going through the motions, giving in to his alpha instincts to make sure his pack is taken care of. He doesn’t know what else to do.

So he holds Scott and tries not to cry. “My mom’s their emergency contact,” Scott sobs out, an explanation as to why he knew so soon and why he’d been the one to call Derek. “She’s sitting with Stiles while they prep him for surgery. His dad’s already in surgery.”

Derek’s heart feels like ice has pierced it. Stiles is alive though, his heart is still beating and Derek just wants to go in search of that one sound, to find it in this crowded building of dying people. He doesn’t though, he just continues to hold Scott and tries not to break down in tears himself. He should ask about what kind of injuries they have, what their prognosis is, but he’s pretty sure that Scott’s already told him everything that he knows.

He watches as first Isaac and then Allison, followed by Lydia and the rest of the pack, come running into the waiting room. As soon as Allison appears he readies himself to let go of Scott, because he knows that if Allison’s around then there’s no way that Scott would choose him. In fact, Derek’s pretty sure that the only people that Scott would choose over Allison would be his mom or Stiles. And even then, it’s only occasionally.

Evidently Allison is expecting the same because she comes up and puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder, who starts, as if he hadn’t even noticed there was anyone else in the room. Derek lowers his arms, letting Scott go so that he can turn to Allison, but Scott doesn’t really let go. Sure, he stops hugging Derek, but he uses his free hand to grip Derek’s as he turns to give Allison a one-armed hug. He doesn’t let go of Derek and Derek can’t help but be grateful.

They all move to sit in the uncomfortable chairs, everyone huddling as close as possible, with Derek and Scott in the center, still gripping hands. Scott once again shares what little information he has, squeezing Derek’s hand for reassurance, although Derek’s not sure whether Scott’s reassuring Derek or himself. It should be weird, it shouldn’t feel comforting, because while their relationship has developed really well over the past two years, they’re still not all that close. They don’t hold hands, they don’t comfort each other.

But then, it makes sense, because that’s what Stiles always did for them. Stiles always held their hands, always held them together, and of the two people there, they are possibly the ones with the most to lose. Sure, everyone loves Stiles, but it’s not the same and Derek finally, finally understands it. Scott and Stiles were always brothers, long before the pack, and they would have been brothers long after the pack if it had never formed, but that’s not true for the others. The others haven’t spent their entire lives with Stiles at their sides, they know how to live without him, they’ll be devastated, but they can get through this.

Derek and Scott can’t. Derek doesn’t know what to do with his life if Stiles isn’t in it. He knows, now, that he needs Stiles, needs him not just to survive like he had when they’d first met, but also to live. He never realized just how much this life, this fragile happiness that’s slowly been building itself around him, depended on Stiles. Not until this moment, when he’s faced with the realization that he might never see Stiles again, might never get to tell Stiles that he loves him too.

And that idea, right there, scares him more than he’d ever thought it could. Derek has lost his entire family, he has literally watched as everyone he loved burned before his eyes, heard their screams, but at least they knew just how much he loved them, how sorry he was. It took a long time to come to terms with that, some days he still doesn’t think he has, but he knows that if it weren’t for Stiles and his pack then he wouldn’t have even reached this point. He’s not sure that he could ever forgive himself if Stiles dies without ever knowing that his feelings were reciprocated.

Derek wishes then, for the first time in years, that he was better with words, with expressing what he feels. Stiles has never been anything but open about everything that he feels, an open book for anyone to read, as long as you speak the language, and Derek’s been studying for awhile now. He’s known what Stiles feels for him and he’s done nothing about it, hasn’t even really acknowledged it because Derek doesn’t do emotional confrontation. Especially if that confrontation is with his own feelings for a pretty boy who’s smart and funny and brave and risks his life for Derek all the damn time.

It hurts to think about, a sharp pain that pierces through the strange numbness that has fogged his brain ever since Scott had called. Derek wishes for just a moment that he could just sink into that fog, just let it obscure everything, but Scott’s grip on his hand is too solid and Erica’s head is resting on his shoulder, two solid points of contact that tether him to the present. It’s enough to keep him grounded and present, enough that he knows the second that Scott’s mother appears with the news they’ve been waiting for.

She’s leading a doctor to them and looks worried, but she’s not crying, she’s not falling apart. Derek thinks that if either of the Stilinski men were dead then not even Melissa McCall would have been able to maintain the professional composure that he can tell is the only thing that’s keeping her going. Derek is oddly reminded of his mother just then, and the way that she’d refused to let anything bring her down, refused to let anything get in her way. But the resemblance is fleeting and when Mrs. McCall walks toward them he doesn’t see anything left of his mother in her.

“Stiles is in recovery now, they had to do some repairs,” she says and Scott finally lets go of Derek so that he can put an arm around his mother. Derek tries not to feel suddenly like a leaf in the wind without Scott there to hold him steady. “He had some internal bleeding but he’s stable now and I can take two of you to go see him.”

The relief hits him like a sucker punch to the gut. Stiles is stable, he’s alive, he’s going to be fine. It takes all he has not to sink to the floor in abject relief, but he stays upright and doesn’t say anything when the group insist that Derek and Scott should be the ones to go see Stiles first. He doesn’t say anything because they’re giving him what he wants, but he knows he would have ripped apart anyone who had tried to keep him from Stiles at that moment. He knows it and it’s only the ferocity of that knowledge that startles him, not the fact that he would.

Mrs. McCall leads them through the halls of the hospital and Derek can’t help but memorize the route and all of the potential exits. His instincts are screaming at him to protect Stiles, to do all he can to prevent any further harm from coming to him. He’s not in the habit of denying those instincts so he does nothing to hinder this perusal of the hospital’s security. What he finds just makes him more and more anxious to see Stiles, to be able to put himself directly between Stiles and anyone that might want to hurt him further. The tension is building with every step closer he gets to Stiles and when he can finally, finally smell him, it’s only because of years and years of restraint that he’s able to keep himself from abandoning the McCalls and running to Stiles’ side.

He’s glad that he didn’t run when they arrive at Stiles’ private room and Mrs. McCall opens the door for them. It’s a private room and he automatically notes all points of entry, the areas that are most vulnerable, and goes to stand where he can offer the most protection, where he can get in the way of any attack that might come for Stiles. He’s not even aware of what he’s doing, it’s all automatic, the observations and decision made in seconds in the back of his head while he’s staring at the boy sleeping in the hospital bed.

Derek can’t imagine what it must be like to have to rely on the loud beeping to hear Stiles’ heart, to know that it’s functioning, can’t imagine what dull human senses would do to him right now, because the only thing that’s keeping him steady is the fact that he can hear the solid, steady thump of Stiles’ heart with his own ears. It’s slower than normal, but it’s as strong as ever and Derek focuses on that, because it’s too painful otherwise.

The lights are dimmed, but that doesn’t make any difference to Derek, he can see perfectly well and he wishes he couldn’t. Stiles is sleeping, his eyes closed and Derek wants him to wake up, to open his eyes so that there would be some color in his face besides the vivid color of the bruises that mar half of his face. They continue down his body, which is only covered by a thin blanket. He’s not even wearing a hospital gown, although his arm is already encased in white plaster. Derek hates it, hates that his skin is so pale that the only color comes from those bruises and the angry red scratches that litter his face and arms. The steady rise and fall of his chest is almost as reassuring as his heartbeat, except for the fact that Derek can see white bandages peeking out from under the blanket.

Scott’s already at Stiles’ side, holding his hand while his mom draws up a chair next to him. Derek can’t bring himself to take the few steps forward, to get close enough to actually touch Stiles, too afraid that to actually touch Stiles will reveal that this is all a dream, that this is only Stiles’ dead body, that Derek’s only imagining his heartbeat, the sound supplied from careful memorization over the two years that Stiles has been by his side.

He can hear Scott murmuring to Stiles and knows that if he could just concentrate, he could understand what he’s saying, but Derek can’t concentrate. Everything around him is drowned out in the feeling of relief that Stiles is alive, and the lingering terror that he could still die at any moment. Derek’s never been so grateful that he never pursued his childhood dream of being a doctor, because it means he doesn’t have to know all of the ways in which this could suddenly crash down around them, all the things that could go wrong and Stiles could suddenly slip through their fingers. That lack of knowledge is simultaneously reassuring and terrifying and at the back of his mind he thinks that Stiles would have already started researching, started making notes and charts on all the ways that he could still die from this.

But Derek doesn’t want to think about that, doesn’t want to think about anything. He just wants to stand in this room, protecting Stiles from what he can, and bask in the sound of Stiles’ heart and the faint smell of him, diluted by the sterile smell of the hospital itself. He can ignore the metallic tang of Stiles’ blood, as long as Stiles’ heart keeps beating, as long as Stiles wakes up and smiles at him, the smile that makes his heart skip a beat and makes him grateful that Stiles isn’t a werewolf because then he would know. Not that it matters, because Derek’s going to tell him how he feels, he won’t carry this secret around anymore, not with the knowledge of just how easily Stiles could be torn away from him refreshed in his mind.

* * *

 

In the end it takes Stiles almost a full day to wake up. It’s Monday afternoon and everyone had been forced out because of school, but that’s okay because Derek’s still there to watch over Stiles, when his eyelids finally begin to twitch. Derek holds his breath, sitting up straighter in his chair, which is placed so that he can see all entry points in the room and still be right next to Stiles. He reaches out to hold Stiles’ hand, but aborts that movement when Stiles groans and his eyes flutter open.

“Stiles,” he breathes out in a sigh and he’s not at all surprised that that’s the first word to come out of his mouth. It’s the word that’s been circling through his brain for more than 24 hours, chasing out any other thoughts.

Stiles just gives him a wan smile and croaks out “hey, Sourwolf” before his dry throat closes up and he goes into a coughing fit. Derek wants to hit himself for not realizing just how dry Stiles’ throat would be and rushes to hold up the styrofoam cup of water, nearly spilling it in the process. Stiles just gives him that smile that means he’s trying not to laugh at whatever Derek’s done now, Derek had never liked that smile but right now he loves it.

Stiles sips at the water, using the straw and holding it with his sling-free left hand wrapped around Derek’s. The entire time his eyes are locked on Derek’s and the air feels like it’s not reaching Derek’s lungs, as if everything in the world right now is nothing compared to this moment. Finally he pushes the straw away and Derek draws back to put the cup down without ever breaking eye contact.

“So apparently people still do not know how to respect traffic lights,” Stiles offers up in a joke and Derek is hit with a flash of relief that Stiles remembers what’s happened and why he’s in the hospital, but mostly he’s just overwhelmed with a rush of affection. Because this is Stiles, who is human and breakable and beautiful and tells bad jokes to try and lighten up situations and Derek can’t hold himself back any longer. So he doesn’t. He just takes his right hand and carefully places it on the side of Stiles’ face, mindful of the bruises, and leans in to place a soft kiss on his mouth.

And when Derek pulls away he leaves his hand there, cupping Stiles’ cheek while Stiles stares up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “I love you,” he says, because there are no other words for it and even if there were, Derek wouldn’t be the one to find them. Maybe Stiles could, Stiles who’s always been so much better with words than Derek, but that’s okay, these words work just fine.

Stiles just grins up at him, the one that takes Derek’s breath away, and says “took you long enough” before reaching up with his good arm to draw Derek back down. And then they’re kissing and it’s everything that Derek thought it could be and more. He knows now, he knows just how much he needs Stiles by his side, and this, right here, is just confirmation of that.

* * *

 

Relief makes him feel strangely giddy but that soon dissipates when he has to tell Stiles about his father. The Sheriff’s going into his last surgery in just an hour and Stiles can’t see him beforehand because he’s too weak to leave his bed, even in a wheelchair. Stiles cries a little when he’s told, clutching Derek’s hand tightly, but then he pulls together, putting on the brave face that Derek can recognize, but can never quite see through. He thinks that maybe this time Stiles’ brave face doesn’t cover much, because he can still feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves.

Derek stays with Stiles that night, holds his hand while they wait. The Sheriff’s in surgery for hours, late into the night and well past visiting hours but no one tries to kick Derek out. They’d been warned that brain surgery takes a long time, but that this is a relatively low risk procedure and they’ve got their best neurosurgeon on the job, plus the Sheriff’s in good health, he’s got every chance of making it out okay. It doesn’t mean that Stiles is any less anxious, fidgeting and talking a lot more than usual, as much as he used to talk when Derek made him nervous.

He’s anxious as well, the sheriff’s a good man and Derek’s formed a good relationship with him over the past few months with Stiles, it’s almost like they’re friends. He doesn’t want the man to die on a purely personal level, not just because it would devastate Stiles. And while he’s not the best with emotions he does his best to keep Stiles distracted, to keep him busy, to stop him from obsessing over the lack of news.

Stiles is supposed to be sleeping, but they both know that that’s a lost cause so Derek pulls out a pack of cards he’d bought from the gift shop and they play war. Before the others had left they’d played other games, but with just the two of them war is easiest, plus Stiles loves it and Derek likes anything that makes Stiles happy. Stiles is energetic and happy, only his hospital gown, bandages, and bruises remind Derek that he’d feared for Stiles’ life not too long ago. Whenever he remembers that he has to pause for a moment and reassure himself that Stiles is fine or his hands start to tremble and the first time they did that Stiles started to freak out and Derek doesn’t want that to happen again.

It’s at the back of his mind now constantly, the idea that he needs Stiles so much more than he ever thought he could need anyone, and because he’s Derek Hale, Sourwolf, he also knows that Stiles doesn’t need him in the same way. Stiles has it so much more together than he ever has and Derek understands that so he can’t show Stiles all of his cracks and flaws, he needs to be strong. That thought is there now too, tormenting him because how could Stiles ever need Derek as much as Derek needs Stiles?

* * *

 

A little past midnight a nurse comes in and Stiles’ head just snaps up, attention zeroing in on her tired but happy expression. “Is he?” Stiles asks in a small voice and she smiles and that’s all that Stiles needs to see to know that everything’s going to be fine.

“The surgery went very well, he’s in recovery now. We’ll be moving him up here to share your room in the morning,” she says and maybe says a few more things but neither Stiles nor Derek are paying any attention.

Stiles is clutching Derek’s sleeve with one hand and squeezing Derek’s hand with the other. His heartbeat’s erratic with relief and Derek just gathers him into his arms as he lets out a sob of relief. The nurse must leave after that but Derek’s too busy holding Stiles to pay any attention to her.

It’s only now, after the fact, that Derek realizes just how worried Stiles really was, how much of his fear he’d hidden away from Derek. The thought plagues him, needling at him, but then it’s completely removed as Stiles slowly stops sobbing and just sits quietly in Derek’s arms, finally giving into his body’s need for rest. He’s almost asleep and the words are mumbled but Derek still hears them.

“Thanks, couldn’ a done this wi’ out you,” Stiles manages before he slips fully into sleep and Derek carefully rearranges them until he’s laying next to Stiles in the hospital bed, with Stiles’ head still pillowed on his chest. It’s then that he realizes that maybe Stiles needs him a lot more than he’d thought, maybe even as much as he needs Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written because of a bet with Zimothy and I lost so I had to write a fic. She chose Sterek and hurt/comfort so this was the result. Zim, I hope this is what you wanted!


End file.
